In
July 2009 I had the opportunity to travel to Peru with one of World
Expeditions’ Community Projects. Part holiday, part volunteer work detail this
promised to be a trip with a difference and one with which to make a
difference. We were to be based in the Andean village of Tastayoq, 3986m above
sea level in the Urubamba region of Peru.
Like
everyday tourists, our group of 18 camera-snapped our way through Lima, the
World Heritage listed Cusco and Ollantaytambo, launching place of those
embarking on The Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. We would make our own journey to
Machu Picchu by comfortable train after our project, as a reward for our
efforts if we were good little volunteers.
The
Inca Trail, as advertised in numerous South American travel brochures, takes 400
tourists a day. We, too, were to follow the Inca trails (there are 42,000 km of
them across South America) but the ones less-travelled-by. It is possible to
reach Tastayoq by road, but as part of the holiday section of our trip, we were
to walk there through the mountains over four days.
The
following is an edited version of the letter I sent home after our return from
Tastayoq. It more clearly conveys the emotion embedded in the experience than I
am now able to summon with only a fading memory to hand.
Our first day of trekking started with a hair-raising 4 hour bus
ride around mountain roads barely wide enough for one bus, let alone another
vehicle going the other way. It’s okay, vehicles going up have right of way
over those going down. Of course, sometimes going up also involved going down
and backing up a 40 seater bus on a narrow road with a sheer drop on one side
so the upward-heading car could go past was, well, not something I particularly
wish to recall...
The bus ride ended with the sight of a long picnic table set up
on the edge of a plateau beside the road with a panoramic vista of the Andes.
Not too shabby, eh? Lunch wasn’t too bad either. Rolls, salad, guacamole, hot
drinks. This was our most basic meal while we were away. Sadly, I have become
rather accustomed to my 3 course meals 3 times a day. I kid you not, even
breakfast had 3 courses. Toast, porridge, cereal and something else hot like
pancakes, omelettes, rice pudding.
Our first trekking (half) day was incredible. We tackled our
first mountains with relative ease as we admired the natural surroundings
bathed in golden sunlight. I had to write in such clichés because it makes an
amusing lead in to the next sentence: It was all downhill from there. And I
don’t mean literally. I mean atmospherically and climatically.
Day 2 started fine. But then it rained. And then it hailed. And
then it snowed. Sensational! On Day 3 it just snowed. We camped in the middle
of nowhere in the snow. At lunchtime that day, we still got a hot lunch in the
dining tent set on a high snowy pass. Those cooks were phenomenal.
On the evening of Day 3 we were given the option of returning to
Ollantaytambo for the night and then returning by car to the village of
Tastayoq, site of our project, the next day. Six out of the 18 took up this
option. Not me! Despite the freezing cold, I was having an absolute ball. I
asked our guide Javier if we had to pay extra for the snow!
Day 4 was our highest and steepest pass to cross - almost 4700m
- and in 15cm of snow; knee-deep on the top of the pass. Fortunately, however,
it didn’t snow much while we were walking. It was still overcast and VERY cold
but it was more pleasant being able to see where you were going. There was such
a sense of achievement amongst the 12 of us when we reached the top of the
pass. It was exhilarating. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. To celebrate,
I must confess that when we started down the slope, the temptation was too much
and I took a rubbish bag I happened to have on me and slid down the hill on my
backside! Who cares if I hit a few rocks on the way and have some special
souvenir bruises? Life is there to be celebrated I say!
The expectation had been to reach Tastayoq by about 3pm. We got
there at noon. We are the Power Team! You should have seen us sitting around
the lunch table, though. Shattered. Then, after lunch, we put in 4 hours of
work on the project. I believe I mentioned the Power Team?
The project involved the building of a permanent bridge over the
river so the children can safely cross to school. We stayed in our tents on the
oval and ate in the new dining hall built recently. Behind us was the school.
There is also a community hall, a toilet block and greenhouses. This is the
centre of the village. The villagers themselves (46 families) live scattered
around the hills. On my return I will show you the bridge the children were
using when we arrived and you will understand the urgent need for a new one.
They now have a 2m wide concrete bridge with handrails, instead of a few
rickety planks.
The old bridge
We were also working on the building of a library. I was part of
the original library team. I think I found my calling. We were building a stone
wall and I, somehow, was always able to find just the right rock for just the
right spot.
They pulled us off the library after the second day. I’m not
sure our wall building was up to scratch. I prefer to think that they were more
desperate for our expertise on the bridge...
We had a slap up celebration on our last day (yesterday).
Pachamanca (earth oven) - a bit like a NZ hangi. They cooked a couple of sheep
and a load of potatoes (only a selection of about 8 of the 3000 different
varieties in Peru). No llama - no one wanted to give up the vital
wool-producing animal just to feed a bunch of tourists. And rightly so. Many of
the families turned out for the celebration and the official opening of the
bridge. They have so little but are so friendly and happy. The children were
given some gifts from things we had brought for the school (most was kept to be
distributed in school). It was a reality check to see their delighted faces
when receiving the bounty of a notebook, pen, a couple of pencils and a clip-on
koala. We have so much and really need so little of it.
I
must confess that our trip to Machu Picchu paled into insignificance after such
an experience. On my return home, I wrote:
It was common for folk to comment on my return "Welcome
back to the real world" or "Welcome back to reality" but I have
come to realise that the reverse is true. I feel I have actually left the real
world and arrived in fantasy land. I cannot erase the memory of children eager
to receive the simple offering of paper and pencils in a small remote village.
This is the real world. I suspect they would view our lives as something of a
magical illusion.
Tastayoq kids
I
encourage anyone thinking of making a similar trip to take the opportunity
without hesitation. It is truly life-changing.
A Bridge in Peru
